


The Threads of All Our Lives

by tryslora



Series: Weavers [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Children, Community: fullmoon_ficlet, F/M, Family, Kid Fic, M/M, Magic, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Weaving, spinning, tangled
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:47:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek comes home to discover that their eldest is teaching the pack children how to weave magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Threads of All Our Lives

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: If you're particular, this contains spoilers for things I haven't actually written yet because it takes place five years after the end of Haven't Forgotten My Way Home. But if you're willing to assume that yes, more kids happened, it's just a bit of cute. :)
> 
> I saw “tangled” for this week's fullmoon_ficlet prompt and thought “weave” and knew I needed to write _something_ from the Weavers ‘verse. So yeah, here, have this little tidbit from five years down the road. It can probably be read independently if you just accept that there are kids and magic involved. :) As always, I do not own the world nor characters of Teen Wolf, I just like to play with them (a lot).
> 
> ETA 6/17/14: Removing anonymous commenting to try and stop spam. *sighs*

When Derek walks in the door of their home, he sees Stiles leaning against the doorway opposite, staring into the living room. “Is there a reason—”

“Shh!” Stiles waves frantically at him to be silent, then crooks his finger, motioning for Derek to join him. They both peer around the corner into the living room where Molly sits on a stool in front of the old spinning wheel, Sammy pressed in close on one side and Gretel sucking her thumb while standing on the other side.

“Is there a reason we’re spying on the kids?” Derek murmurs.

“Watch,” Stiles whispers.

Molly has her fingers outstretched in a gesture Derek recognizes, as if thread stretches off the spinning wheel. She touches the paddle with her toe and as it spins, the younger children stare avidly at the space between the wheel and Molly’s fingers.

“See?” Molly says, with all the authority of being so much older than them at nine. “Can you see the light?”

“It’s shiny,” Gretel lisps around her thumb, and Stiles grins. Beams, really, full pride in his expression.

“So?” Sammy shrugs. “It’s a light. Just like all the other lights.”

“But they’re _important_ , Sammy. Daddy’s been teaching me, and I need to teach _you_ so we can make everything stick together the way it’s supposed to.”

Derek watches how Stiles’s teeth catch his lip; it doesn’t take a mindreader to know what he’s thinking. “You’ve taught her well,” he murmurs, lips on the shell of Stiles’s ear. “She won’t do anything wrong.”

“Our nine year old is teaching a five year old and a three year old how to warp reality,” Stiles whispers back. “I’m pretty sure _nervous_ is an okay state of being here.”

Molly gently sets the woven strand back against the wheel. “This is how we get new threads, when we’re doing something big like making wards. Sometimes Daddy brings the wheel somewhere else, so he can add our weave there and make it safe. But we’ve all got our own weave. You can see it, right?”

Sammy rolls his eyes. “The shiny stuff around us.”

“S’pretty,” Gretel whispers. “There’s stuff everywhere. We’re all tangled up.”

Molly beams like Gretel has said something brilliant. “Exactly. Our weaves are all linked. So there’s threads between us because Gretel’s my sister and you’re our cousin, Sammy. And we have threads back to our parents. And Jamie will be all linked to us, too, when he’s born because he’s ours.”

“My dad says Jamie’s going to be a werewolf, not a weaver,” Sammy says. “Not both, like you and me.”

“Well, _yeah_.” It’s Molly’s turn to roll her eyes. “That’s because he’s Daddy Derek’s son so when he’s born he’ll _probably_ be a werewolf but he might not be. Just like your sister might be human, too.”

“Nuh-uh.” Sammy shakes his head. “My mom says she is _definitely_ a werewolf. And your Dad says she’s definitely _not_ a weaver.”

“That last part’s true,” Stiles murmurs. “No sign of weaverness in Felicity this time. I can’t believe that they’re having another kid. I seriously thought Jackson was going to stop after one.”

The impending birth of Jackson’s daughter amuses Derek to no end; he’s looking forward to seeing Jackson wrapped around the finger of his little girl.

“See, so they’re not weavers, which means we _have_ to make sure they get tangled into the pack _properly_ ,” Molly says emphatically. “Gretel, how can we do that?”

Derek would wonder where Molly gets this teacherly attitude, except he already knows that she is mimicking Stiles. He smirks fondly, brushing a kiss against Stiles’s head, hearing the soft snort in return.

“We could make more threads?” The words lilt up uncertainly, and Gretel shoves her thumb in her mouth again.

“Spinning!” Sammy chortles. “We have to spin more weave for Jamie and my sister.”

“Whassername?” Gretel asks.

Sammy shrugs. “My mom says she won’t say until she’s born because she won’t _know_ until she’s born.”

“Huh.” Molly rubs her hand over Gretel’s head, a soothing, grooming gesture as Gretel frowns, then pops her thumb back in her mouth.

“C’n we spin it now?” Gretel asks quietly, the words muffled by her thumb.

“Sure. Do you want to help?” When Gretel nods, Molly settles her on the stool for the wheel, then she quietly, carefully draws out something invisible, seeming to pass pieces to Sammy and Gretel, while keeping something for herself, carefully pinched between her fingertips.

“Ever seen that before?” Derek murmurs, because Stiles’s eyes are wide and brightly amber.

Stiles shakes his head. “Never even occurred to me that the thread could be split while spinning. You realize, half the things in the instruction book are because Molly thinks of things that none of us even consider. Kids are creative.”

Gretel touches the paddles with her toes, and the wheel starts to slowly spin. All three children have intense expressions of concentration as they gather up something invisible to Derek’s eyes, but he watches how Stiles nods along, fingers tapping idly as he tries not to reach for the building weave.

“We have to give it to Jamie and my sister,” Sammy says, voice a little tight.

“Mm-hm, this is the tricky part. You need to find the right threads. Sammy, you find your Mommy and send yours to her, and Gretel, you need to find Anneka so you can send yours to Jamie. Okay?” Molly reaches over to both, helping arrange something in front of them, her fingers deft and eyes briefly flashing red.

There is a moment where Derek feels something shiver through him; Stiles tenses, then eases, a fond and proud smile lifting his lips. 

Stiles steps away, moving quickly into the living room and scooping up Gretel, holding the three year old on his hip. She opens her soft amber eyes wide and worried, smiling when he kisses the tip of her freckled nose. “That was very good, bunny,” he tells her. “And good work for you, too, baby.” His hand drops to touch Molly’s head briefly, and she beams at him.

Sammy stares at him warily, chin lifted. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“No, you did everything right. You wanted to protect the babies, right?” When Sammy nods solemnly, Stiles offers a high five. “You did good, kid.”

Derek can’t stay away, not when Stiles is with their daughters. He makes his way into their midst, falling on the floor when Sammy tackles his knees. He laughs as Molly and Sammy swarm over him, and Stiles stands there, smirking while he holds Gretel who looks like she might sleep on his shoulder.

This is family, tangled together and gaining more weave by the day. He wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
